Kirra's Journey - Of Scribes and Heroes - A Prelude to Episode 3
by Jennyslaw
Summary: Kirra has a new life in the home of Jason and Alcmene, away from the abuse of her step-father. She never misses a meal, beautiful dresses are the norm, and Corinth is but a stroll away. But somehow it isn't enough. She misses her life on the road with Hercules and aches to go there again. But a chance encounter with a scribe gives Kirra reason to put on her traveling boots again.
1. Prologue

Thanks to all of you who've read and have enjoyed Kirra's story thus far.

This story is short and doesn't have the action the previous episode had. It is merely a lead-in to the _Hercules The Legendary Journeys_ episode "Doomsday" in which I will add Kirra to the story. I do not plan to do much damage to the original, but I want it to feel like a fresh and original story.

PS: Jump to the end of Chapter 7 for an update on the progress of the "Doomsday" rewrite.

* * *

 **Kirra's Journey**

 **Episode 3 Prelude**

" **Of Scribes and Heroes"**

 **Prologue**

 _Stumbling through the bedroom door, she collapsed on the floor of the small kitchen. She heard her mother crying in the bedroom. No, more than a cry. A moan, a wail, and there was such pain in it. Yet, she could not cry. Her pain was just as real, but her feelings were shut like water behind a rock dam._

 _What energy she had she used to crawl across the kitchen floor to the table. Grasping a weather corner, she forced herself to her feet. The meager task nearly sapped her completely. Wavering on unstable legs, gasping for breath as though air was all that kept her alive, she stood. A few seconds to bolster her reserves of strength and courage, and a few steps, and she made it over to the washbasin where the evening's dishes still steeped in cold water. She and mother might have cleaned and put them away long ago had it not been for her own actions._

 _What was one more dish to add to the pile? There would be no one to complain about them anymore._

 _With a plunk, the knife disappeared into the soapy water, leaving only a trace of blood swirling in the milky water like a liquid red cloud. Kirra watched it swirl and then dissipate. One tear fell with it…_


	2. Chapter 1

**Kirra's Journey**

 **Episode 3 Prelude**

" **Of Scribes and Heroes"**

* * *

 _Chapter 1_

Kirra opened her eyes to another day streaming through the bedroom window. Even now, waking up in different surroundings was disorienting. Back home she didn't have a window in her bedroom. Her morning alarm was a fist pounding on the door demanding breakfast. It would take a bit more time getting used to the sun waking her up in the morning.

And it would take longer acclimating to the absence of her closest friend and companion. She could no longer talk with Mother just to have someone to share her thoughts with. No longer could they share a laugh together or do chores together or take longs walks through the countryside to pick wild flowers. Mother's loss was no doubt as sharp as hers was. She didn't have to hear from her to know that. No letters had come through the courier since she came to live here, nor had she sent any. It's what they had agreed upon.

Despite her absence, of greater importance was the absence of pain in both of their lives. The mornings _and_ the evenings had gotten easier for Kirra as the months passed. The severe ache of missing her mother had begun to subside, and so had the memory of the night in Endor. She tucked the memory away as she once tucked away her scrolls of songs and stories on the shelf in her bedroom; only these were shelves of the mind, designed to hold memory scrolls. Certain ones she had relabeled and deliberately forgotten.

Now, as Kirra awoke every morning in the bed Hercules used to occupy when he was a boy, she met the day without dread. There were still chores to do. She hadn't landed into a cushy life, by far. But, gone were the days where she feared not to have her chores done on time, or done to another's liking to keep from receiving a bloody lip.

Kirra could sit up in bed and stare out the window each morning, breathing a sigh of relief that she could take her time. There was no one rushing her, no one demanding of her. This time, she made her decisions ... and it felt pretty good.

A knock at the door caught Kirra's attention and she turned in time to see Alcmene poke her head through the door.

Alcmene smiled when she saw Kirra awake and sitting up. "Good morning, Kirra."

"Good morning, Alcmene," Kirra said, smiling in return.

Since she had come to live in Corinth, Kirra had grown quite close to Hercules' mother. She was glad of the companionship she had with Alcmene. Her presence helped to soften the absence of her mother.

When she lived in Endor, Kirra would wonder about the sort of person Alcmene must be to have born the son of Zeus. It took less than a fortnight to realize her ramblings and stories were nothing but handed-down suppositions and wild fantasies. She had known little about Hercules and the people in his life. She had imagined Alcmene to be as god-like as the father of her son. Looking at her now, the curls and ringlets framing her pretty face, Kirra didn't see her as god-like anymore. Alcmene was exactly the person her image projected: sweet, kind and gentle. She wasn't overbearing, she never demanded, her smile was like sunshine and her heart glowed like the stars at night. In short, Kirra adored her.

"You look well rested," Alcmene said.

"I am. So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"First breakfast. And then I thought you might like to come to town with me today."

"Oh, I'd love to!" Kirra was excited. A trip into town usually meant a new dress.

"Well, get dressed and join us for breakfast."

"Okay," Kirra answered with a bright smile. Alcmene gently patted her shoulder and left the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Kirra was out of bed, out of her gown and into a dress in a matter of minutes. Alcmene may have schooled her on the proper decorum of a lady, but she had not the patience for such things. The idea of doing something other than working in the garden or around the house was too exciting to fret over proper manners. She quickly ran a brush through her tangled curls and patted out the wrinkles in her dress.

"Good morning, Kirra!" said the voice at the table as she stepped out her room. It was Jason wishing her a good morning with a charming smile as he set a third plate on the dining table. "Bright-eyed and _bushy-tailed_ as usual, I see."

Kirra could barely suppress the blush. She made quick work of wrapping her wild curls into a knotted ponytail and wishing she had spent a little more time with the brush. Despite her efforts, a few strands broke loose of the knot and fell into her face. Her mass of curls was a struggle every morning, but she couldn't hate their jungle of tangles even if she wanted to. She inherited her curls from someone she had never the grace to meet—her father.

Kirra found a seat at the table, forgetting about her messy hair. She still could not believe she shared the same residence as the King of Corinth. Well ... the _former_ King of Corinth. And he wasn't just any Jason. He was _**the**_ Jason, leader of the Argonauts, finder of the Golden Fleece. Getting used to the bright sun shining through her bedroom window in the morning was nothing in comparison. She felt like a commoner surrounded by the renowned ones of their time, and yet they made her feel welcome in their presence. They made her feel like family. Alcmene had become a surrogate mother, and Jason, a father. They weren't god-like nor were they royalty. Jason and Alcmene were normal people. They laughed, loved and joked the same as other people.

What dumbfounded her was the love they showed. Before, her mother's love was all she needed. Now, she didn't what she would do without Jason and Alcmene. Their affection had seen her through the absense of her mother.

"So, what's the occasion?" Jason asked as Kirra attempted to spoon ladylike portions of egg into her mouth.

"No occasion," Alcmene answered. "I thought I'd take Kirra into town, so the two of us could get away from the monotony of being stuck at home."

Alcmene smiled at her, and Kirra returned the gesture, but was instantly self-conscious. Had she been so obvious? She loved her new home. There was a serenity here she hadn't experienced anywhere else. And yet, at times, she felt as boxed in.

It wasn't a new sensation. She had experienced it before at home in Endor—a desire to move, to go out and explore. But, here it was somehow worse now. She wanted to go places, as she had with Hercules. She thought of their trek to Attilas and then the long journey here to Corinth—the rolling hills, the winding trails, the dense forests, the fields full of colorful wildflowers and the towering mountains in the distance. The thought of them filled her dreams and haunted her waking hours. How could they not? They had burned themselves into her memory. She wanted the experience of the open road again.

And yet, she owed a great deal to Jason and Alcmene for taking her in. How many people would have been so willing? She was not worldly-wise. Her knowledge of people didn't extend past Endor, but Kirra feared the number of people who were willing to take in a headstrong and willful young woman was likely small. So, how could she tell them she wanted to leave their comfortable home to travel the open road and experience life? The answer was ... she couldn't. Thus, she kept quiet.

"Well, how about I come along?" Jason asked.

"This is a girls' day out," Alcmene said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "Besides, don't you have a barn door to repair?"

"I was going to first thing this afternoon. A trip into town might do me some good, too." Jason scratched at his temple, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "I need to get some hardware to fix the door anyway."

"I think it's a good idea for the three of us to go," Kirra said. "When was the last time we did something together?"

"Yeah, besides work," Jason said with a knowing smile to Kirra. "I think it's a good idea, too."

"Oh, you two." Alcmene laughed. "You'd swear all we do around here is sweat and toil by the way you talk."

"Hey, I didn't say anything."

"Of course you didn't. And I'm sure you'll have loads of fun watching us shop for material, as well."

"Material?" Jason squinted knowingly. "Didn't the two of you get brand new dresses last month?"

"One new dress a month never hurt any woman. Right, Kirra?"

"Hasn't hurt me so far." Kirra hadn't received so many new articles of clothing in her life than she had in the last several months.

Jason shook his head and laughed at the girl. "Alcmene has spoiled you, hasn't she?"

Embarrassed, Kirra lowered her head to keep the blush from showing. Though she tried, she had yet to find her voice around Jason. With Hercules and Iolaus, it had been easy to be herself. Hercules was easy going and more than easy to converse with. Iolaus, the irritating cad; she couldn't keep her mouth shut around him. But, Jason ... well, she couldn't quite put a finger on it yet. Perhaps it was his charming nature, and the fact that he was once King of Corinth. She wondered quite often what he was like in his younger days. He must have been a good king.

Alcmene placed an arm around Kirra's shoulders. "Can you blame me? I had two rambunctious boys. I didn't have any girls to spoil. So, I'm making up for lost time."

"Well, let me not get in the way, then," Jason said, pretending insult. He got up from the breakfast table and made as if to leave. Then, he turned back with a smile and kissed his wife on the cheek. "You two have a good time."

* * *

The dirt road ahead of them was as sinewy as a snake's body, long and thin, with many curves and a thick shade of poplars and tall grasses. Kirra had walked this road enough to know it almost as well as the path leading from her old home to the village of Endor. They were similar in their lack of scenery. She wished for broader spaces, open pathways. Perhaps she was asking for too much. Jason and Alcmene had given her so much. Was it wrong to want more than this simple life?

Sensing Alcmene's eyes on her, she turned and faced her with a smile. A quick smile usually quieted any concerns her friend had, but not today. Alcmene's frown remained.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Yes," Kirra said, waving away her worry. "I'm fine."

"But you've been so quiet the last few days, Kirra. Don't think I haven't noticed. Tell me what's wrong."

Kirra sighed. "I don't know. I guess I've been feeling..." How should she describe the feelings plaguing her?

"Trapped? Antsy to get out and explore?"

Kirra looked at her, astounded and yet a mite dismayed at having been discovered so easily. "Yes ... exactly. How did you know?"

"I saw the same with Hercules years ago," she said with a sad smile. "He was younger than you are now, eager to see the world. I couldn't bear to see him go at the time, but I knew I had to let him."

"I'm sorry, Alcmene."

"Sorry for what?"

"I haven't been appreciative enough of what you and Jason have done for me." Alcmene shooed the thought away, but Kirra continued. "The two of you have done so much to make me feel welcome and not homesick. And the only thing I can think about is leaving."

"Don't be silly. We have enjoyed having you with us. It's only natural for you to want some independence. Jason and I can't hold you here with us forever ... as much as we might like to."

Kirra gave a soft laugh and patted the hand at the crook of her arm. If she chose to go (to where, pray tell, she did not know), she would miss Alcmene the most. Her sweet smile and kind eyes had lifted her spirits on more than one occasion. When she was at her lowest, Alcmene would come to her with a sweet snack, relating funny stories of when Hercules was a boy. She remembered how much they had laughed, and how much she begged for more stories. As a mother, Alcmene could only oblige.

Sadly, she hadn't seen Hercules in many months; not since the day he left her with his mother and Jason. She had hoped he would drop by out of the blue, as Alcmene said he sometimes did, but it had been months since then. He and Iolaus had stayed the evening at the house and the five of them shared a meal together, laughing and telling of their adventure in Attilas. Her sleep that night had been most restful. By morning, the air in the house had changed and it was time to say goodbye. Her last image of Hercules waving as he disappeared behind an oak tree with Iolaus had burned itself like hot coals into her memory.

Where had his many journeys taken him? Her mother once told her of the place where her father was buried. No matter how much she loved and missed Nemuel, Mother never once attempted the journey. It was many hundreds of miles away from Endor. Perhaps, on one of her own journeys, she might one day find his burial place. Or maybe Hercules would be willing take her there.

No matter how she got there, when she did, she would place two flowers on his grave. One for her and one for Meriba.


	3. Chapter 2

**Kirra's Journey**

 **Episode 3 Prelude**

" **Of Scribes and Heroes"  
**

* * *

 _Chapter 2_

Kirra and Alcmene spent their day in town in one clothing shop after another, picking fabrics and choosing designs, each settling upon the ones they liked the most. Alcmene, naturally, made the color choices. Kirra, useless in the fashion department, merely acceded to her friend's better judgment. The people of Endor did not make fashion statements. They worked, and Kirra wore what most of the women wore—boots and a simple frock. She wore what she had no matter the color, whether it matched or not.

Since Alcmene got ahold of her, Kirra had to endure her tutoring in ladylike etiquette and decorum. Not that she didn't appreciate what Alcmene was trying to do, but it hadn't sunk in, nor had it changed the person deep within. What Alcmene considered ladylike, Kirra considered uncomfortable and unnecessary. Was it really important to anyone else how she spoke or how she sat, or whether she held her shoulders straight and her chin high? Adolescence may have taught her the necessity of wearing a corset, but adulthood did not mean she had to adhere to every social norm … or wear the flat-footed and laced-to-the-knee sandals Alcmene had chosen. How could anyone travel the open road with such impractical footwear? Good thing she kept the boots she left home with.

Surely, in time and with the proper attitude, she could conform. She could become the proper young lady, one who married well and cared for her husband's property; tending to the children and the garden and making sure dinner was always on time … but it wasn't who she was. She wasn't an aristocrat. She was a village girl.

The open food market in Corinth fascinated Kirra more than the dress shops. Remembering back to her first view of Attilas, Kirra understood now why Hercules had laughed at her. Attilas was nothing compared to Corinth. The market here was overflowing with scrumptious smells. Exotic spices filled the air. On one table were fresh vegetables, such as corn or tomatoes. On another, baskets of fresh fruit. In one corner, sacks of ground wheat flour for making bread. In another corner, goats and pigs awaited the homes of their new masters, and hens happily pecked the ground inside of a pen unaware they were soon to be sold, plucked and stuffed into the cook pot. It was lively here underneath the covered awning of the food market. It was the excitement of it, and the memory of Attilas, which had her heart to beating faster. Here she forgot about etiquette and decorum. Here she felt alive again every time they came.

At one vendor's table, Alcmene called Kirra over to waft the bristle-like leaves of a plant under her nose. Though reluctant, she inched her nose forward anyway, not expecting the strong, but pleasant smell.

"What is that?"

"It's called rosemary. Do you like it?"

"Yes. It's an odd smell, but I do."

"Do you remember the hen I cooked last week?"

Kirra nodded.

"I made a rub with this plant and olive oil and placed the remaining leaves inside."

"Is that why it tasted so good?"

Alcmene answered with a laugh. "I was thinking of planting it in my garden this year, so I don't have to keep coming into town for it."

Kirra nodded her wholehearted agreement. Alcmene's skill at tutoring in etiquette held no candle to her other skill—cooking with exotic spices. Her lessons in this area sunk in with greater success. Mother had taught her how to cook, but with nothing more exotic than salt.

While Alcmene eyed and purchased an amalgam of spices and herbs to further enhance her meals, Kirra wandered through the covered market, enticed by the many wares the vendors had to offer. Skilled artisans pandered everything from pottery to implements of worship to children's toys. She passed fishmongers and shoemakers, wine makers and slave-traders (to which she cast an unsavory frown), until she stopped upon a rather unusual looking booth and its rather unusual looking owner.

Behind the short-statured and olive-skinned man, stood a makeshift wall with varied colorful textiles. Odd powders and liquids inside of glass jars sat in ordered and labeled rows. Dried roots and herbs of different sorts sat in wooden bowls. Kirra thought to call Alcmene over, but her friend had moved farther down the covered market than she thought. Had she been with Mother, she might have called to her, but she wouldn't be so uncouth as to yell, "Hey Alcmene, come here!" in the middle of the market. So she approached the vendor, albeit cautiously.

"Hello," she said with a small smile, wary of his odd appearance. His eyes were almond-shaped and slanted. His head was bald save for a small patch in the back that grew long enough to resemble a horse's tail. Where could he be from? She had never seen anyone like him before in her life.

He replied to her greeting with an eager smile, parting the tassel-like mustache on his upper lip, and bowed to her as if she were royalty. Judging by the color and intricacy of his clothing, she might have thought him royalty and not some simple peddler. How far away was his homeland? Could she make it there on foot, or would she find she would need to cross many miles of earth and water? The idea left her giddy with excitement.

The strange man indicated his wares with a wave of his hand and began to speak in a language unknown to Kirra. Picking up a bowl of large dried leaves, he gestured for her to come forward.

"What is it?" Kirra asked curiously.

The man brought one of the leaves under his nose, wanting her to do the same. When she did, she recognized the smell immediately.

"Tea. Those are tea leaves."

He smiled when she identified them. He proffered a small cloth pouch with a questioning expression. He wanted to know if she would like some. Kirra nodded enthusiastically and filled the pouch generously.

Kirra produced her money, but the man didn't take it. Instead, he quickly showed her a jar of reddish-brown powder. Curious, Kirra returned her money and asked, "What is it?"

Opening the jar, he offered once again for her to smell it. She brought her nose closer once again and smelled deeply of the powder in the open jar. It was earthy, but sweet. Not pungent like the scent of the rosemary Alcmene had purchased.

"What do you call it?"

He considered her for a moment, then his almond-shaped eyes widened. "Ah," he said, and gave her the name of the powder in his native tongue.

"Jho g'way *****?" she said, testing the word on her tongue.

He nodded and smiled at her correct pronunciation.

"Well, however you say it, it smells wonderful. I'll take it."

His smiled widened and he began neatly wrapping her jar of brown powder. As she was going to pull out her dinars a second time, he attempted to show her something else, but she couldn't linger any longer, no matter how much she wanted to. She had to get back to Alcmene.

Handing over her money, the vendor said something in his language, pressed both his palms together and bowed to her. She figured it was some form of 'good-bye' or 'thank you' or 'have a nice day', so she repeated the gesture with a smile. Turned out to be a mistake. It took her five or so bows before she could get away from the little man.

Slipping through the throngs on her way back to the last spot she had seen Alcmene, Kirra pondered the vendor with the horsetail hair and the colorful robe with its wide, bell-shaped sleeves. Where was he from? What were his people and their culture like? Certainly much different from her own, no doubt. Perhaps Jason would know, or Hercules, if she got the chance to see him again.

Kirra spotted Alcmene several yards away near a booth selling fresh cut flowers. She was speaking with another woman. Her first thought was Alcmene had met up with an old friend, until she saw the look on Alcmene's face. It was not a pleasant one.

Instinct demanded she march over there in her friend's defense, but she stood her ground. The heat of anger had already blossomed on her cheeks. It burned her skin. If she went over there now, she might say or do something rash. She'd found enough ways to embarrass herself since she came to live with Alcmene and Jason with her uncouth and backward villager's ways. She wanted to know what this woman had done to rile Alcmene so, but she needed to think first and get control of her emotions.

She sidled as close as she could without Alcmene or the unknown woman spotting her. The woman, whose dark hair was pulled back in a braid, had a small journal open in her hands, a quill at her fingertips and a pleasant yet inquisitive expression on her face. Yet, Kirra doubted her sincerity.

"But, aren't you the mother of Hercules?" Kirra heard the woman say.

"Of course!" Alcmene responded. By the tone of her voice, she had not taken the woman's question with kindness.

"Well then, surely you must know where your son is."

Alcmene turned from her to peruse the flowers. "Just because I am his mother doesn't mean I know where Hercules is every moment of every day. He travels quite extensively."

"I see," the woman said, looking and sounding disappointed. "I've heard rumors he is in the village of Nesimus. They say he's _rerouting a river_. Sounds pretty preposterous to me. What do you think?"

"Well, I don't know. Hercules is good with his hands ... and he usually accomplishes any task he sets out to. Perhaps he _is_ rerouting a river."

Kirra watched the woman sigh, visibly annoyed. She would get nothing from Alcmene about her son's whereabouts. Kirra stifled a giggle until the woman's next statement.

"You know, it's my understanding Hera killed Hercules' wife and children simply because of her husband's infidelity with _you_."

Alcmene responded as Kirra expected her to. "Excuse me! How dare you? Haven't you any feelings?"

The woman's show of sincerity returned as fake as before. "Sure I do. It must have been a terrible time for your family. Wouldn't you like to set the record straight once and for all, and stifle the rumor and innuendo that has spread throughout the known world like wildfire?"

"My personal life is of no consequence to anyone else butmy family. Now, I really do wish you would leave me alone." With that, Alcmene turned away from the woman.

"One more question..." the woman began, not easily dissuaded.

"No!"

The word was like an explosion. Kirra had not seen Alcmene so enraged and it took her aback, but more so her unwelcome companion. The woman took a step back. Kirra could not see her face anymore, but it was not difficult to guess at her hesitation.

"Now, I have asked you to leave me alone and I _will not_ ask you again."

The woman made her apologies with a slight curtsy, closed her journal and walked away, head held high and aloof. Curiosity ate Kirra up inside, but she waited for the woman to move some distance away before she made herself visible to Alcmene.

She went to her, took both of her hands in her own and asked, "Alcmene, who was that?"

"Oh, Kirra. Thank the gods you're back. That woman would have been the death of me with her questions."

"What did she want?"

"She's a _scribe_."

Alcmene said the word so derisively, Kirra could only guess at a scribe's true profession.

"Rumormonger is a better word for what she does, if you ask me." She saw Kirra's confusion and clarified. "She wanted what all scribes want ... a story. She's looking for Hercules. For what possible reason, I can't say. Perhaps to barrage him with questions, as well."

"I'm guessing you didn't give her a clue." Kirra felt a twinge of guilt in her gut for not having come to Alcmene's rescue.

"Absolutely not!" Alcmene answered. "She thought she could wiggle it out of me with her clever questions, but she was wrong." She paused, then grasped Kirra's arm and led her out from under the canopy of vendors. Her voice was a whisper when she spoke again. "She was right, though. Hercules is in Nesimus. He promised the people there he would help sandbag the river this year to protect their village. Heavy rains this time of year tend to cause flooding."

A prickle of gooseflesh rose on the back of Kirra's neck. Nesimus. Hercules is in Nesimus! She hadn't seen him or heard of his whereabouts in so long one might conclude he'd fallen off the face of the earth. Nesimus wasn't so far away. Several days journey at the most. Could she find it on her own? Was the road a dangerous one?

"How sweet of him," Kirra said, keeping her mind's whir of activity to herself. These were thoughts best not shared. She wasn't sure if she should entertain them at all.

"Well, he is my son," Alcmene said with a laugh. Not noticing the working of Kirra's mind, Alcmene took her arm and led her down a cobble pathway. "Come. I've a few more stops before we head home."

But Kirra's mind was already far away from home.

* * *

 *** -** **ròuguì**


	4. Chapter 3

**Kirra's Journey**

 **Episode 3 Prelude**

" **Of Scribes and Heroes"  
**

* * *

 _Chapter 3_

Once the sun began its journey into the evening sky, Alcmene called an end to their shopping trip. They had spent the rest of the day shopping and taking in the sights only Corinth had to offer. Stone-hewn columns carved in delicate intricacy at their chapiter, arched entryways which had her wondering at the manpower and labor involved in their construction, sculptures of Corinth's famous people and their favorite deities dotting the cobbled roadways, and people as far as the eye could see—these were only some of the sights that drew Kirra's eye and distracted her already distracted thoughts.

The annoying scribe with her fretful questions did not show her face or her journal and quill in Alcmene's presence again; nor was Alcmene particularly worried she might. Alcmene continued on as if the peace of their day had not been disturbed.

Kirra's had, but she wasn't ready to reveal it. Instead, she related her experience of the strange-looking man she had met and the purchases she made. Alcmene had been most pleased, and eager to try out the tealeaves. The other spice with the sweet but earthy scent Alcmene called cinnamon. Kirra hadn't heard of such a thing, but Alcmene promised her it went well when baking pastries as well as mixed with a bit of sweetened butter on bread. On any other occasion, she might have been interested to try it before bedtime, but her mind swirled with other interests.

On their way out of town, they passed temple after temple; Hermes, Athena, Kratos as well as Hera and Zeus. Alcmene paid no mind to them even as they drew Kirra's eye of curiosity. Why they did was a mystery. There were no public temples in Endor and Mother never prayed to any god. Perhaps it was simply a desire to go where she had not yet been. Like the Acrocorinth. There it rose out of the ground in the distance, monolithic in size and towering over the city like a giant shield. Atop the rock sat Corinth's acropolis, a structure unlike any here upon the ground. Kirra wanted to see it up close, to climb the steep steps to its zenith and explore its many passageways. But Alcmene never lifted her eyes to it. She was as blind to it as she was to the temples around them. Kirra knew why, and yet didn't understand at all. There was much about Alcmene's life she didn't know. The scribed had merely scratched at her surface.

As Alcmene paused to peruse a stand of hand-woven rugs, a pottery shop lining the city streets caught Kirra's eye. The shop housed everything from cooking utensils to flower pots to decorations. But, the pottery was not what drew her attention.

Standing inside and conversing quite intensely with a round, balding man was the woman who had accosted Alcmene earlier in the afternoon. Neither of them happened to see Kirra and Alcmene pass, but Kirra could see her through the open window. She had not forgotten the scribe's expressive features and keen eyes, nor had her thoughts earlier in the day left her. She found herself wondering what this woman was up to. Clearly, she had not given up her effort to find Hercules. Neither had Kirra, and if she were going to find Hercules herself, this woman might be her only ticket.

With a smile she hoped covered the guilt gnawing at her, Kirra left Alcmene's side. "I see something in the shop I'd like to take a closer look at. I'll catch up with you."

She didn't ask for permission and didn't wait for it either. She left Alcmene in her dust, making her way to the shop she had spied the scribe within. Confident the woman hadn't noticed her when she was questioning Alcmene, Kirra walked nonchalantly into the shop. She purposely passed her, offering a word of "excuse me." Would she stop her conversation, look at her, recognize her? No. They continued to talk in hushed tones behind her while she pretended to eye hand-shaped idols of the goddess Artemis. The scribe had not seen her earlier, or later for that matter, walking with Alcmene. To her, she was merely another shopper in the markets.

"So, what are you trying to tell me, Katrina?" the man asked in a gravelly voice. "You got _nothing_?"

Katrina. So, that's her name. Hearing it softened the image of a cold-hearted scribe … but not for long.

Katrina sighed irritably. "No, nothing. I couldn't get anything from the mother. She says she doesn't know where he is, but if you ask me, she was covering for him. I should have known better. I should have pretended to be a peasant villager in dire need of his help. I'd have gotten a lot farther."

Kirra's ire rose. _"The mother"?_ What an insensitive little Harpy!

"Don't dither about what could have been," the balding man said. "Tell me what you're going to do about it."

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking! Trust me, I haven't forgotten what it would mean for me if Hercules agreed to the deal? Can you imagine the impact of a story like that? You would be swimming in dinars, and I'd get the recognition I deserve."

"What did you do to scare the mother, anyhow? I could swim in dinars just from her story."

 _The nerve of these two!_

"I know. You don't have to tell me I screwed up big time. I asked too many wrong questions and angered her. I was too eager."

"Don't beat yourself up, Katrina."

 _No, no, let me do it!_

"Learn from your mistakes," he continued, Kirra's thought no blip on his radar. "It's what will make you a great scribe."

"You're right. This gives me an idea how I can refine my technique when I meet Hercules."

"You know what? Go to Nesimus anyway. What can it hurt? Maybe the stories are true. Maybe he is there."

Kirra could almost hear the smile break across the woman's face.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do, Dexter. First thing in the morning, I'm heading for Nesimus."

"Can I help you?"

Kirra jumped, nearly dropping the figure of the Goddess of the Hunt she held in her hands, but it was only the shopkeeper looking to make a sale. Her heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm and Kirra replied she was only looking. She then quickly slipped out of the shop once the scribe and her friend had moved on. There was no need to follow them. She heard what she needed to know.

With a quick—and rather unladylike—jog, Kirra returned to Alcmene's side.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Alcmene asked.

There were more questions reflected in her eyes, but Kirra chose to avoid them. "Yeah, but it was too expensive."

"Maybe next time."

"Maybe."

In Kirra's mind, there would be no 'next time.' She already had her mind set. She didn't worry over the nagging questions: _Would Hercules be angry if I left the safety of "home" only to hunt him down? How would Alcmene and Jason react to me wanting to leave so suddenly?_

Those worries were best left to be handled when or if they happened. For now, Kirra had decided … if Katrina was leaving for Nesimus first thing in the morning, she was too.

* * *

 **Sorry if this one is a bit short, but I do hope you enjoyed it. There are six chapter total in this one, so we are half way though.**

 **A shout out to _Siampie_ : Thanks for the review! When I got up this morning, I contemplated not even working on it or putting another chapter out, but your post motivated me. It feels good to know I put a smile on someone's face this morning. :)**


	5. Chapter 4

**Kirra's Journey**

 **Episode 3 Prelude**

" **Of Scribes and Heroes"  
**

* * *

 _Chapter 4_

The sun had begun to peek above the mountaintops. Kirra stood in the open door watching it, willing it to both take its time and hurry up. She was in turmoil. Her stomach was in knots. This was what she wanted to do. She was ready to go, _eager_. But … was she making the right choice? Was the time right, or was she making a mistake to let go of what had been given her?

Most of last evening, she fought with how to tell Jason and Alcmene. Cowardice had seen her writing out a short goodbye note she could leave on the table on her way out, but she thought better of it. It was too sneaky, too underhanded. She didn't want to leave them with the wrong impression. She loved them too dearly to leave without showing any regard for the care they gave her.

Hours she spent agonizing over her decision, but peace came only when she chose to be honest. _It's best to simply speak the truth,_ she thought, and over diner, she did so. They took it better than she thought they would.

Alcmene and Jason eyed each other over the dinner table and, to Kirra's surprise, nodded their acquiescence.

"We've already discussed it," Jason said.

"After what happened today," Alcmene began. "I had a feeling it wouldn't be long before you were ready to move on."

Kirra didn't know whether to feel elated or depressed. "I'm so sorry."

Jason took her hand. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I went through the same thing at your age. Eager to get out of the house, to be free of any responsibility, save for myself. But—"

"It's nothing so grand, I promise. I simply want to find Hercules before _she_ does."

Alcmene's eyebrows rose. "The scribe?"

Kirra nodded. "She's leaving for Nesimus in the morning." Seeing their dismay, she quickly amended, "That and I have been antsy to get out of the house."

Alcmene sighed. "Kirra, were both more than a little concerned about this. I understand, believe me I do, but…"

She looked to Jason.

"But," he said. "We worry about a girl your age traveling the open road alone."

"I'm not a child," she frowned. "It's not as if I know nothing of it. I used to travel between Endor and the nearest village for supplies all the time. And that was a half days' travel."

"The road to Nesimus isn't a half day's travel and there are hazards even the strongest of men should be wary of traveling alone in these parts."

Jason spent the better part of the evening warning her of said hazards. He offered to take by wagon. She refused. He offered her the safety of traveling under the banner of the King of Corinth (since he knew him well). She refused again.

"This is _my_ journey, Jason," she said. "I need to see it through. I cannot … I _will not_ begin it tethered to a protector, though a well-meaning protector."

She was sure the answer was to be "NO." Jason would raise his hand to the air, as Hiram often did, and bring it down in a clinched fist to pound upon the tabletop. It would mean the subject was closed and she would have to find another, less savory way to complete her task. But, her imagination had a way of working overtime when she was nervous. Such violence was far removed from the man Jason was. Yes, he fought in many battles, had likely killed many men, but that was war. Jason was a good man. He only wanted to protect her, as a father would a daughter.

"I understand how you feel, Kirra," Jason began. "But as your guardian—"

Alcmene laid a hand upon his, stifling his protests. "Jason, Kirra is a smart girl. Nesimus is not so far away, and she's heading in Hercules' direction. There's some comfort to be drawn in that."

Alcmene had many of the same issues with her leaving the safety of their home to travel the road alone as Jason did. She did not want her to go. The truth of it was clear in Alcmene's expressive eyes, but she also understood she couldn't hold her back. Kirra was the only one who possessed the key to her freedom. Only she could pave her future, and on leaving her mind was set.

By the time the dinner dishes were put away, Jason had begun to draw a map of the safest route to Nesimus. Later, they went to their beds anxious over the decision. Sleep had not found them easily.

Turning from the open doorway, the rising sun to her back, Kirra faced Jason and Alcmene with determination. She wouldn't show them her fear. "Thank you so much for everything you've done for me."

"No thanks are needed," Jason told her. "We've been more than happy to have you here. And you will always be welcome here whenever you're ready to come back. Isn't that right, Alcmene?"

"Absolutely, dear," Alcmene said, stepping forward to embrace her. "Your room will be waiting for you just as you left it."

Hearing the quivering of Alcmene's voice made it hard to speak, but Kirra managed to whisper a "Thank you."

Alcmene pulled away. A glimmer of the morning sun caught the tears in her eyes. "Be careful."

"And stick to the trail as I've outlined it," Jason commanded. "Ok?"

"I will. I promise."

On those words, Kirra turned and left behind the place she had begun to call home. She marched with a straight back between the rows of Alcmene's herb garden, passing her newly planted rosemary with reluctance. A wooden bridge was all that stood in the way between her and the open road, and her stomach twisted into more knots when her boots clomped upon it. It might be a long time before she heard the sound of her boots on this bridge again.

 _Don't be silly. You'll be back soon._

But the thought came with little conviction.

Once she reached the opposite side of the bridge, she turned to wave to the couple who had given up their peaceful co-existence to care for another. One last look, one last smile, was all Kirra allowed herself before she started off on her journey. She would have to hurry if she was going to find Katrina on the road to Nesimus.


	6. Chapter 5

**Kirra's Journey**

 **Episode 3 Prelude**

" **Of Scribes and Heroes"  
**

* * *

 _Chapter 5_

Kirra wrapped the shawl Alcmene had given her tight around her shoulders, waiting for the warmth of sunlight to penetrate through the treetops. She walked steadily along the path, hoping to get in as many miles as she could before the sun walked its own path across the sky and settled down for the night. Her drawstring satchel bounced rhythmically off her hip with every step in Hercules' direction.

Alcmene had risen early to prepare it with the proper provisions to get her through the journey. It contained a couple of day's worth of food and water, enough to last until she could meet up with Hercules in Nesimus. The satchel held comfortably in the crook of her arm, but its drawstring would surely to wear a mark after a long day of travel. At least she had her boots for the journey. According to Jason's directions, the route was safer, not easier. The sandals Alcmene packed would stay where she put them—in the satchel next to a change of clothes. She had an unknown length of miles ahead of her and fashionable sandals would surely drive her stark raving mad on this uneven road. Maybe they'll come in handy later. Who knew what might await her around the next bend.

Although, that was another problem. The morning chill wasn't the only reason for the gooseflesh on her arms. Fear had begun to work its way from her gut to her spine and on through the rest of her body. Too many long months had passed since she traveled these roads. Then, she had been with Hercules and Iolaus. She had felt calm, protected. Now, she was on her own. Jason had warned her of the dangers of the open road. He'd spoken enough of highwaymen and cutthroats that Alcmene felt forced to silence him.

"She needs to know what she might face when she goes out there," he'd said.

Kirra had shooed away his worry. Hadn't she already encountered her share of highwaymen and cutthroats? And hadn't she gotten herself out of several scrapes?

"If I can talk my way out of a dungeon, I can talk my way out of highway robbery," she had told them.

Kirra looked down at her dress. Her appearance differed greatly from the poor village girl in Attilas. No one would waste their time accosting a poor girl with a few scraps of bread in her bag. However, a young woman draped in Corinthian finery—a peplos of soft blue with a shawl to match and a satchel made of the finest fabric Alcmene could afford—was ripe for the picking. It's what any highwayman would think were they hiding in the brush looking to rob someone.

Kirra furtively glanced into the dense foliage on either side of the road, wishing she had taken a good look at herself in the mirror before she walked out Jason and Alcmene's door.

 _I look like I'm on my way to meet the Prince at the Royal Ball. I should have thrown on my old dress from back home. No one would have given me a second glance. What was I thinking?_

She protested, but Kirra knew exactly what she had been thinking—Hercules. She wanted to look nice for Hercules. Now, she only wanted to give herself a quick kick in the butt. Had she been paying more attention to Jason and his direction, she might not have allowed herself the distraction of selfish, schoolgirl thoughts. He would be no happier to see her than Jason and Alcmene were to let her go. He would fuss and worry as they had.

The thought should have been a bitter blow to her already bruised psyche, but Kirra refused to let it get her down. She was on her way to see Hercules again. The mere thought that with every step she took she drew closer to him was a boon. She would think resourcefully as he had taught in the few weeks she spent with him. And when she saw him again, perhaps he would praise her ability to think on her feet, not allowing fear or despair to hamper her determination.

Rounding a bend in the road, Kirra caught sight of someone farther ahead walking at a steady pace as though on a mission. In the space of seconds, her resolve fled behind a racing heart and knees that shook like a jar of Alcmene's raspberry marmalade. Her mind had been so busy conjuring the highwaymen and cutthroats of Jason's imagination, her eyes at first did not see a woman. She should have known her on sight after yesterday's events. Instead, she saw a slick thief with a dagger instead of a leeching scribe with a leather arm bag full of other seemingly deadly instruments.

This leeching scribe was in fact on a mission. A mission Kirra would have to dissuade her from completing ... _somehow._

With her resolve now back in action, Kirra took two steps back and disappeared into the brush. She was now the highwayman (or highwaywoman) waiting to ambush a weary traveler, though with a twist. Crouching, Kirra took a deep breath and muttered under its exhalation.

"Alcmene is going to kill me."

Tossing the shawl to the ground, Kirra took hold of her left sleeve and, in one swift jerk, ripped it from the dress. The right sleeve soon followed the left onto the leaf-littered earth, and so did both of her hands. The dirt was still damp with the morning dew, but dry enough to splatter on her skirts, giving them a well-traveled look. She plopped her butt onto the wet ground and went to work on the hem, pulling on the threads and ripping it in spots. By the time she finished and was back out on the road, she looked once again like a poor village girl. Tying the shawl about her waist and giving her curls a wild fluff, she completed the look.

Up ahead, the scribe continued along the path at an unshakeable pace, wearing her own determination in the stiffness of her spine. Kirra knew what she had to do, but she was still wary. She didn't know this woman's intentions and motives any better than she did those of a dagger-wielding thief. After the scribe's rude treatment of Alcmene, she had no idea how she might react to a stranger. No matter. Kirra's plan was a good one. She would strike up a conversation with Katrina the scribe, become friendly with her and gain her trust. Once she did, she would find out not only where she was headed, but also what the heck she wanted with Hercules.

And then ... she would devise a clever way of veering her off Hercules' path.

"One foot in front the other, Kirra," she whispered to herself and forced her feet forward. Pushing her suspicions aside, she hurried to the scribe's side, feigning both a sigh of relief and of breathlessness.

"Hello!" she cried, throwing on her friendliest smile.

The scribe turned, looking somewhat dismayed at her presence.

 _Worried I might upset your plans?_ Kirra thought and continued her ruse. "I'm so glad I came across you. I hope you don't mind if I travel with you for a while. I get nervous traveling alone." That, at least, was the truth.

To her surprise, the dismay on the scribe's face faded. A warm, and rather charming smile replaced it. "Actually, I'm glad you came along. I was beginning to get bored with the silence."

Kirra didn't know where to put herself. She had prepared herself for an attitude, not a welcome.

"What's your name?" the scribe asked. She smiled again, but this time it was a motherly one.

Kirra faltered, feeling her plan slipping like oil through her fingers. Hercules always told her to trust her instincts, and her instincts told her the scribe was not a good person. Yet, she seemed so warm and inviting. Had she misjudged her?

 _No, it cannot be. Not after what I witnessed in the markets._

The scribe had begun to scrutinize her with a quizzical expression. Kirra realized she had paused overlong and quickly refreshed her friendly smile.

"I'm sorry. My name is Kirra. And yours?"

"Katrina of Katea."

Kirra waited for the typical "nice to meet you," but it didn't come. Katrina of Katea stared at her expectantly.

"Don't you recognize my byline?" she asked.

"Byline?" _What is a byline?_ "No, I'm afraid I don't."

The scribe looked down at Kirra's tattered dress. "Perhaps not. So tell me, where are you headed, Kirra? And what would a girl your age be doing traveling alone? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?"

Misjudged? No way. It would seem the scribe did not dwell far beneath the figure of the kind traveler. Story time; and she had better come up with a good one. This woman was not dunce, not by a long shot. She was a scribe. She made her living reading people like a scroll. Best to stick as close to the truth as she possibly could.

Playing it up, Kirra huffed and rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I heard much the same last night, _and_ this morning, as I walked out the door."

Katrina smiled knowingly. "Overprotective father?"

"No. Overprotective Aunt and Uncle. It's my father I'm trying to get home to."

"It must be pretty urgent for you to risk traveling alone."

Oh, if only that were true. Katrina of Katea was making her feel like the dumbest person alive, and not only in her clothing choices (Katrina's simple cotton dress in peasant's colors of browns and blues were much more travel-worthy). Kirra was taking a big risk heading out of her _safe_ , new home and venturing out into the unknown in search of someone who might not want her along.

"Well, he's been ill," Kirra answered, adding a new weave to her story. "And I received a letter saying he's taken a turn for the worse."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," the scribe said with a sincerity she lacked the other day.

"Yes, but that isn't the half of it." _Time to drop the bait,_ Kirra thought. "Our village tends to flood this time of year. If I don't get home and look after things..." Kirra trailed off, hoping her added expression of fear would seal Katrina's belief in her little story.

It worked. Recognition bloomed in Katrina's eyes. "You say it floods?"

"Yes," Kirra nodded.

"You wouldn't happen to be heading for the village of Nesimus, would you?"

"Yes! How did you know?"

"Well, I am a scribe. Knowing about such newsworthy events is my job."

Not quite the answer Kirra was hoping for. Gaining her trust was going to take a little more work than she had planned. "Oh, you're a scribe. How exciting! You must do a lot of traveling, then?"

"Well, yes. How else would I get to where the story is happening? Which is why meeting up with you is such a coincidence. Nesimus is exactly where I'm traveling to."

"Really? _That is_ a coincidence. At least we'll be able to keep each other company the entire way."

"Good thing, too, considering it's going to take us a day and a half to get there."

"It is?" she asked, the look of worry on her face no longer an act.

Kirra wasn't exactly much of a map-reader. Sure, she could follow it from point A to point B, but couldn't judge distance or time. Why hadn't she questioned Jason further? She planned this little excursion no better than her escape from Endor. Now she would need to draw her deception out and hope to steer the scribe away from Nesimus at a later time. The question was _when_. She didn't want to spend the night alone.

Katrina smiled sweetly unaware of Kirra's inner turmoil. Would she question her inability to plan properly for such a journey?

"Not to worry," Katrina said with a comforting arm on Kirra's shoulder. "We'll get there in record time."

* * *

 **Slight change in plans. I cut this chapter in half, so there will now be 7 chapters to this story. Also, I have to work morning the next two days, so you may not see a continuation until Sunday. Sorry. I write so much better in the morning. In the afternoons, especially after work, I tend to suck. ;)**

 **PS: I did this one kind of fast this morning, so if you see any typos, PM me so I can fix them. Thanks.**

 **See you soon!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Kirra's Journey**

 **Episode 3 Prelude**

" **Of Scribes and Heroes"  
**

* * *

 _Chapter 6_

Embers glowed like tiny golden stars within the pyramid of the fire's gathered sticks and twigs. It had only begun to crackle, giving toasty warmth to the two travelers' hands and feet. The sun had long since dipped behind the mountaintops and with it came the chill of night.

A pity neither of them were hunters. A hot meal would have ended the night well. Yet, they had the jerky and bread Alcmene packed as well as the olives and fruit Katrina carried in her satchel. It was a simple supper; one Kirra would have appreciated in Endor. Too many months of Alcmene's fine cooking and Corinthian delicacies had softened her. It was good to get back to her roots. She wasn't cut out for an opulent lifestyle.

Perhaps this getting-back-to-her-roots experience had changed her opinion of Katrina. When she wasn't being a scribe, Katrina was actually a nice person. She was open and honest about her opinions on certain subjects, particularly the subject of scribes, and if something angered her, she wasn't shy about pointing it out. On the whole, her demeanor was impeccable, and her attitude about life and family was surprisingly similar to many of the things Kirra learned from her mother. Where had the audacious person who asked such horrid questions of Alcmene come from?

For this reason, Kirra had yet to work up the nerve to question Katrina further. She had let her prattle on about this, that and the other. News worthy items, to be sure! And she had, once or twice, thrown in her two dinars on whatever subject they discussed, but truth be told, she had no interest in Katrina's work as a scribe. She kept her talking only in the hopes of hearing Hercules' name on her lips. What was her _real_ reason for going to Nesimus? Why was Katrina so desperate to find Hercules?

Kirra took a nonchalant bite of jerky. "So, what's in Nesimus for you? Is it the opportunity for a story or do you have family there, as well?"

Katrina had been laying her bedding down when the question came. She paused and eyed Kirra carefully. _Not too keen on sharing your plans, are you?_ Kirra thought. Katrina took a seat near the fire, making a show of neatly tucking her legs and her skirts beneath her. A slow and teasing smile spread across her face.

Having sat cross-legged on her own bedding, Kirra skirts were bunched up between her legs as she used to at home. She'd grown far too comfortable 'getting back to her roots,' and now her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. How Alcmene would have balked if she had seen her sitting cross-legged as men do.

Ignoring her glowing cheeks, Kirra corrected her posture and straightened her dirt-stained skirts, but there was no unseeing her backward villager's ways. She went back to the matter at hand, to coax an answer from the scribe.

"Sorry, I don't mean to pry. Just curious, is all."

Katrina nibbled on a bit of bread, feigning ignorance, but her teasing smile had not faded. "Well, it's not exactly a secret, I guess. And since you're _clearly_ not a scribe, I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you. I don't want anyone getting the scoop over me, you understand?"

"Absolutely."

"Actually, I'm headed for a city a little farther west of Nesimus."

"Oh?"

That was unexpected. Did she know something more about Hercules' whereabouts than his own mother?

"I'm heading for Chalcis. Do you know of it?"

Kirra's first inclination was to say 'no.' A bad choice. For someone claiming to be from Nesimus, she would have appeared dunce, to say the least. Or lying. Chalcis was the capital city of an island named Euboea that cradled the eastern side of Greece. The village of Nesimus was but a half-day's travel from Chalcis. What an unwelcome stumble that would have been. Kirra began to wonder if Katrina were testing her.

"Yes," she answered as one familiar with the area. "I've not been to the capital city myself, but I have heard of it."

"I'm going there to meet a man named Daedalus."

"Daedalus? The inventor?" Now _that_ name rang a bell! Kirra couldn't hide her excitement.

She had read much about the famous inventor during her study into Hercules' early life. There was some talk he had created the Labyrinth of the Minotaur, the Minotaur Hercules defeated in Crete ***** , but at some later point in time, he and Hercules crossed paths and became friends. It was the only thing she had ever learned of him. Information trickled into Endor at a snail's pace, but it was the name—Daedalus. There was none other like it. It had to be him!

"I see you've heard of him."

"Yes, I've heard of him. He's only of the most famous inventor _ever_... except, of course, for the god Hephaestus."

"Well, his fame will soon be infamy," Katrina said with the overeager smugness of a busybody.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because his son is dead, and Daedalus is the one who killed him."

Kirra's face fell. The friend of Hercules a murderer? Impossible!

"How do you know this?"

"The story came to me as stories often do, through word of mouth."

"Then, how do you not doubt it?"

"Believe it or not, Kirra, people generally speak the truth. We are at our most candid when it comes to idle talk. It's when we deal with others on a personal basis that we tend to deceive one another. So, why should I doubt it?"

"Because … this is Daedalus we're talking about here. An inventor. A father! Not a murderer."

Katrina gave her a dubious smile. "You're acting like I maligned a close friend. Do you even know the man?"

"No, but … it's no different than speaking ill of someone like … like Jason of the Argonauts or Achilles."

With a sigh, Katrina's expression went from defensive to conciliatory. "Look, just because I say he killed him, doesn't mean he murdered him. Seems Daedalus used his son to test some sort of flying device. From what I gather, something went terribly wrong and his son Icarus fell to his death."

"How terrible," she said, both relieved and saddened. "He must feel awful."

"You would think so," Katrina said, a smirk forming up on her lips. The eager scribe had returned.

"What do you mean?"

"According to the people, he's holed up in the Euboean King's castle creating weapons so deadly they destroy entire villages."

"That cannot be true."

"I would hope not, but from the stories coming out of Euboea, Daedalus doesn't sound like a man grieving the loss of his only son."

Be it a strange sense of justice or a tendency to believe without question anything she heard through word of mouth, Katrina was intent on vilifying the man. Only Hercules, and Daedalus himself, would know if the claims were true. Kirra's own sense of justice demanded she defend someone she knew to be a friend of Hercules, but she had another job to do and it didn't involve proving the scribe wrong.

"So, you're not really going to Nesimus then, are you?"

Katrina gazed upward, her eyes catching nothing but the underside of trees and their leafy branches lit by the waning fire. She was thinking, debating.

"Yes and no," she said, finally returning her gaze to Kirra. "I am going to Nesimus, but for another reason. I have it on good authority the mighty Hercules ... you know, son of Zeus and all that ... is in Nesimus attempting to reroute the very river you spoke of to keep the village from flooding."

This was her chance. The scribe had finally made mention of Hercules. Now, she had to decide how to react. Should she show excitement, as she had when Katrina mentioned Daedalus? Or should she be coy? Perhaps this was the right time to think about how she was going to steer her onto another path.

Kirra chose to feign an awkward surprise. "Oh really. Hercules?"

This would pique the scribe's interest and give Kirra time to think. She deliberately scratched at her nose and turned her gaze away to avoid eye contact. Katrina picked up on her body language as any good scribe would.

"What is it?" the scribed frowned. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh, no. It's just..."

"It's just what?"

Katrina's frown told Kirra she had the scribe right where she wanted her. For a fleeting moment, she questioned whether she should be underhanded with someone who had shown her kindness. The truth was, with a simple flip of a coin, Katrina's kindness could turn into cruelty when she wanted answers. She could not forget the questions the scribe had flung at Alcmene, or the way it made her feel. What sort of questions would she lash at Hercules if she had her way? She couldn't bear the thought of the scribe bringing up with Hercules the subject of his wife and children in as cold a manner as she had with Alcmene. Kindhearted traveling scribe aside, Kirra would go on the defensive were she to overhear such a conversation. She wouldn't hesitate to lash back as she had with Prince Pervia of Attilas.

Feelings of guilt appropriately shelved, Kirra began a new ruse. "Do you remember the overprotective Aunt and Uncle I told you about?"

"Yes," Katrina said, unsure where the conversation was going.

"Well..." Kirra leaned in, casting secretive glances to her left and to her right, as if someone else in the night might hear. "My Aunt's name happens to be Alcmene."

Kirra watched Katrina's jaw drop. Pride washed over her and she fought to keep from smiling with mischievous glee.

"Alcmene? Hercules' mother?"

"Yes, my only and _favorite_ Aunt," Kirra told her with smile and a nod, then let her face drop. "Though, she seemed out of sorts yesterday afternoon when she returned home from her shopping trip. She said a woman had asked her many questions about her past and wanted to know where her son was." Kirra looked pointedly at the scribe. "I take it that was you."

The scribe raised her chin. "Do you have any idea what a female scribe has to do to get a story these days? Male scribes put forth little effort on their stories and yet they're the ones who get all the glory. While the _'lesser sex'_... that means us ... work our rear ends off. And what do we get? Smirks, raised eyebrows and the oft-asked question: ' _You're_ a scribe?' So, yes, it was me. If I have to get a little crude at times to get the answers I want, then so be it. It's harsh out there for a woman trying to make it in a man's world. You're young yet. Wait 'til you get older. You'll learn soon enough."

Kirra hadn't expected such a tirade, neither had she expected for Katrina to try so hard to justify her actions. It was time to placate her.

"I absolutely agree with you. Far be it for me to chastise you, considering what you had to go through to become the scribe you are. I guess my Aunt does tend to overreact a bit. She certainly did this morning. And now, after hearing about the inventor Daedalus, I can understand your reasons for trying to find Hercules. You did tell my Aunt about Daedalus, didn't you?"

"Well..." Katrina paused, fumbling with her words. "...not actually." She cleared her throat. "No, I didn't."

"There, you see. If you had told her about your reasons for looking for her son, instead of embarrassing her about her past, I'm certain she would have told you exactly where he is."

Katrina's frown deepened. "You mean Hercules isn't in Nesimus rerouting the river?"

Kirra snickered at the scribe. "Rerouting a river—how preposterous! Even for Hercules, it would be some feat. Lelas River floods frequently in Nesimus. Don't you think by now we'd know how to deal with it?"

Watching Katrina's expressions change from proud to hesitant to insecure, Kirra was sure a well-placed laugh at her expense would surely reel her in to the finale of her little ploy.

Katrina's lips were terse and her tone curt. "If he's not in Nesimus, then where is he?"

Kirra quelled her laughter. "Forgive me. Perhaps if you had told me your real reason for going to Nesimus a long time ago, I could've told you ... well, according to Alcmene ... Hercules is in Thebes."

Katrina's face fell so low she could have held it in her lap. "Thebes?! We passed the road to Thebes hours ago!"

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry."

Kirra didn't have to work to appear genuinely apologetic. The scribe's frustration brought back a pang of guilt for deceiving her. Going back on her plan, though, was out of the question.

"Oh Katrina, I certainly hope this doesn't put a damper on your big story. I'm certain once Hercules hears of what happened to his friend he'll want to help you. I'm sure of it."

Katrina said nothing. She stewed in her anger, which glowed as brightly as the embers in the fire between them.

Kirra added, "If you'd like for me to come with you, I'd be more than—"

"No, no!" the scribe quickly said, holding up her hands. She turned from Kirra and slipped into her bedroll. "I'm sure I can manage on my own, now. Goodnight. You've been more than helpful."

Kirra understood her perfectly. Feigning ignorance, she smiled sweetly.

"I'm glad I could help."

* * *

 *** - The Minotaur was actually defeated by the mythological hero named Theseus. However, for the sake of the alternate history of HTLJ (and XWP), as well as the movie "Hercules in the Maze of the Minotaur", I made a few changes to mythology.**

 **I'll post the final chapter to "Of Scribes and Heroes" tomorrow.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Kirra's Journey**

 **Episode 3 Prelude**

" **Of Scribes and Heroes"  
**

* * *

 _Chapter 7_

A bearded man waved her forward, one meaty and hairy arm slicing through the air like a hammer.

"Come on, come on," he clamored.

Kirra stood her ground, however, incessantly wringing her hands and breathing heavily with a terror yet unknown in her young life. It wasn't the man and his hulking form, reminiscent of her stepfather. It was the swaying contraption he stood upon.

"Come on, now, girl," the bearded man said. He placed two rock-like fists squarely on his hips with a huff and a scowl. "Haven't you ever seen a ferryboat before?"

No, a ferryboat was new to her eyes. She hadn't a need or desire to cross _any_ body of water, let alone travel in a boat, be it ferry or ocean going. She sometimes wondered if her father had traveled over water before, but not once in any of her teenage fantasies did she picture herself doing so. Kirra gave the ferryman a nervous shake of her head.

His scowl drew deeper. "Look, girl. If you're wanting to get to Euboea, the only way to get there is on this ferryboat. Now, it's either on with you or be off. I'm the captain of this here vessel and I don't make a habit of waiting for scared little girls to find their courage."

"I am _not_ a little girl," she said to the ferryman with a scowl of her own.

Kirra swallowed her fear and shoved passed the ferryman onto the boarding plank. A squeal of terror escaped her throat when she could not readily find her footing on the bobbing ship. There was a storm brewing in the distance and a brisk wind made for choppy waters. She didn't see the ferryman's sly grin. She was too busy grasping at the railings to keep steady.

But her attention soon centered on the strange contraption she had only ever seen in drawings or heard of in tales. Though long and slender, the ferry was somewhat bowl-shaped, the bow and aft ending in curved wooden structures of simple design. No dragon's head or mermaid had been carved as she had seen in my drawings of pirate ships. Oarsmen of an unsavory sort sat stationed port and starboard waiting for the "scared little girl" to find her seat so they could be underway.

With a huff of her own, Kirra walked forward, eyeing other ferry-goers who had taken seat on the deck. She followed suit and quickly found a spot near the bow next to a man and his small child. She had an excellent view of the long haul ahead. The safest view, she mused, considered the mixed company of travelers and oarsmen behind her.

Sitting as ladylike as she could on the hard deck, she began to regret having given Katrina the slip. Or, she should say ... Katrina had given _her_ the slip.

When she had awoke, the morning sun already brightening the day, she found herself alone once more. As she suspected, Katrina and her belongings had disappeared in the night. Kirra's plan had worked out perfectly! Yet, she wished for the scribe's continued company, if for no other reason than not to feel so alone and afraid. Katrina was probably half-way to Thebes by now, cursing the day she met "Kirra of Nesimus." She sighed, a mite sad. She was actually beginning to miss her company. How ironic.

A jarring sound nearly had her jumping off ship, but it was only the ferryman removing the boarding plank. Kirra sighed again, this time in relief until the oarsmen began the rhythmic rise and fall of the oars. The crack of them slapping at the water's surface started her heart to pounding once again. Before she knew it, the ferry was moving. She waiting without any anticipation for the seasickness Jason had described in his many journeys, but after a few minutes, neither the water nor the movement of the boat had her feeling queasy. Her fear soon subsided as they made their way slowly across the gulf of water separating Greece from Euboea.

She marveled at the strength of the oarsmen. There were only eight of them, but their combined might pulled them over the water as easily as walking upon dry ground. Kirra smiled. Hercules could row this boat on his own, and faster, too.

"See, nothing to be afraid of."

Kirra looked up to see the ferryman staring down at her. The scowl had left his face, replaced by a kind smile.

"Sorry," she said. "I've not been on a boat before."

A curious frown creased his bushy brow. "Where are you from, if I might ask?"

"From a little village called Endor, near Attilas."

"Attilas! That's a long way for a girl to be traveling by herself."

"Actually, my journey began in Corinth. I've been staying with friends there."

"Still, a long way to be traveling by yourself. I've a young daughter about your age. I wouldn't let her step ten feet from my door without me or her mother. What kind of friends are those to let you wonder off by yourself?"

Kirra squirmed. "I know how it must look, but I did have a companion with me for most of my journey. We parted ways early this morning. I'm going to meet a friend in Nesimus. Once I find him, everything will be fine."

Yet, her words were not reassuring to the ferryman in the least. He chastised her without a word. 'As well he should,' Kirra thought. She had been chastising herself since she woke up alone in the woods alongside the road. The whole idea of leaving had been foolish, a rash and dangerous choice. It was a wonder Jason and Alcmene allowed it. She could only guess at what Hercules would have to say when she found him. Yet, her guardians understood her desire to leave, didn't they? Jason most of all. She saw it in his eyes. He knew why she couldn't sit still, why she couldn't remain confined to one existence.

With a sincerity and wisdom far beyond her years, Kirra told the ferryman, "Sometimes one feels the need to step farther than ten feet from one's door."

He stared hard at her, then after a second's contemplation, he smiled. "I guess I felt the same once. That's the day I gained my sea legs."

Kirra laughed. "I don't know if I'll find my sea legs. We'll have to wait and see if my stomach holds up." They shared another laugh together and Kirra decided she liked the crusty old ferryman ... not that she would have dared to call him "crusty" or "old" to his face. His look might have been harsh, but he had a kind heart.

His kindness extended beyond the simple duties of ferryman, for he kept a close eye on her throughout the trip. When the ferryboat docked on the opposite side, he was there to make sure she debarked safely.

"The road to Nesimus is easy, young one. Stick to the road and you'll make it there with no problem."

"Thank you."

"You're more than welcome. And be careful on your journey."

"I will."

She left the ferryboat feeling a hundred times lighter than she had when she boarded. The weight of fear and loneliness had brought her down. Meeting the ferryman was an enormous stroke of good luck, at least emotionally. It was a shame she hadn't taken the time to learn his name. Perhaps she would on the return trip.

Kirra faced the road ahead of her. She was on the last leg of her journey. Finally! The sense of excitement with her at the beginning, returned. In a short time, she would see Hercules again. The mere thought sent nervous tremors throughout her belly. She hadn't forgotten his face or the way he smiled. Most of all, she hadn't forgotten his benevolence. Taking her into his mother's home, caring for her when no one else cared. Hercules gave her not only a new home, but a new life, a new beginning.

What would be his reaction when he saw her walking into the village?

Ahead was a fork in the road. A sign reading "Nesimus" made her heart beat faster. Kirra followed the sign as the road continued to wind on and on. The sun was high in the sky and her stomach had begun to proclaim lunchtime when she came upon a clearing. Beyond, the sound of voices and of people working. The hammering of nails, the clambering sound of turning wagon wheels, commands being given.

She thought she might have come upon a band of soldiers ... or worse yet ... marauders, but as she entered the clearing, she saw villagers working hard to shore up a swollen river. One group filled sacks full of sand, while another piled the sacks along the bank. These were the people of Nesimus! She found the right place!

As if on cue, Hercules appeared from behind a tree. He didn't see her at the edge of the clearing. His eyes were intent upon a wagon of sandbags. He was shirtless, dripping with sweat, his hair wet from the nape of his neck down. Strands clung to his forehead. Yet, he was not bothered at all.

Kirra watched him, small flutterings in her stomach at this image of him, as he walked to the wagon. Two men dropped several sacks of sand in his open arms. Hercules accepted the bags with a smile that could have melted her were she made of butter. How she had missed him! Everything about him was as she remembered.

Kirra only hoped when he saw her, he wouldn't have forgotten about her, and their friendship would be as it was when she last saw him.

* * *

 **THE END  
**

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this 3rd installment of _Kirra's Journey_. ****Thanks for reading and if you've enjoyed Kirra's story thus far, please leave a review to let me know how you liked it. Thanks!**


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